


I'll Fight You

by kam



Series: MCU Drabbles [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, non-consensual medical care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 04:52:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4208619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kam/pseuds/kam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>not-exactly-this-but-something-similar happened to a friend of mine and she asked me to write it as a stucky story so i did.<br/>steve is in hospital and bucky is his nurse and also steve is a little punk.<br/>that's it, that's the story.</p>
<p>oh and they kiss i guess too whatever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Fight You

“Oh, you’re awake! Hi, Steve. My name is James, but you can call me Bucky, or Nurse Barnes, if that’s how your mama raised you.”  
“Go away.”  
“I’ve gotta check your vitals, Steve. Do you think you can sit up?”  
“Get out of my room.”  
“Steve, come on now. Please just…”  
“I will fight you,”  
Bucky stepped back as the tiny blonde surged forwards, but as soon as he got halfway upright, he doubled over coughing.  
“Come on, Steve,”  
Bucky couldn’t help but grin as he rubbed a soothing circle between Steve’s shoulders.  
“Get it out. Come on. Let me take your vitals, then I’ll bring the nebulizer in, ok?”  
“I don’t need it.”  
“Steve…”  
“I’ll fight you.”  
“And you’d probably win. But for right now, let’s call a truce, hey?”  
Steve was already starting to drift back off, and Bucky helped him lie back down, adjusting his blanket gently.  
“Turn your arm over for me, ok?”  
“I don’t need the nebulizer,”  
Steve’s voice was low and breathy, and that was cute enough, but then he murmured,  
“and I would win,”  
and Bucky smiled and brushed the hair off his forehead because that was fucking adorable.

When Steve woke up, there was a piece of paper on his bedside table. Someone had made it into an admission ticket, with the words ‘Title Fight’ and a phone number in messy handwriting in the middle. Steve turned bright red, and the blush didn’t fade until long after he’d checked out and gotten in the car with Sam to go home.

Bucky was pleasantly surprised to find out that, when he wasn’t semi-conscious in a hospital bed, Steve was polite and funny and even more charming than he’d originally suspected. The coffee date that Steve spent most of apologizing for his ‘behaviour’ quickly turned into a second date, and a third, and before long they were ‘an item,’ as Nat put it. Slowly, Bucky found out about all the hospital stays before, all the illnesses and treatments, and about Steve’s mom. And then it made sense, but it never stopped being cute.

“Steve, it’s just the flu. One-point-eight million people have the flu this season.”  
“Get away from me.”  
“Come on, babe, you need this.”  
“I don’t.”  
“Open up, Steve. Come on, let me just…”  
“I will fight you, get away from me. Don’t. DON’T.”  
With a heavy sigh, Bucky swung one leg over Steve’s body, straddling him and using his weight to hold the smaller man still. He caught both of Steve’s skinny wrists in one hand, and used the other to hold the mouthpiece up to his lips.  
“You can fight me after you take this. Come on, baby, just breathe for me. There you go, perfect. It’s ok.”  
Steve kept struggling, half-heartedly, as he breathed the treatment in. Bucky leaned forward, resting his forehead against Steve’s, and smiled at him.  
“I asked them for the grape flavoured stuff but they said they only do that for kids.”  
Steve let go of the mouthpiece just long enough to mutter,  
“Shut up, jerk.”  
“I love you, punk. You’re almost done.”

It’s not just that they taste like the absolute worst, stalest air you can even imagine. It’s not that it’s uncomfortable, after a few minutes, to hold the awkwardly-too-big mouthpiece between your lips. It’s not even that they are a constant reminder of just how weak his body really is. It’s the memories. Every time that stupid piece of plastic slips into place, every time that stupid canned air taste fills his mouth, all he can see is his mother’s tear-stained face as she begs him to ‘just breathe, Stevie, just breathe, please’ and all he can hear is the beep and whirr of this or that machine and all he can smell is the antiseptic they douse everything in and it’s too much. He doesn’t even want to fight Bucky, he never did. The words just fall out of his mouth, every time, because he can’t, he has to get away. The only thing that keeps him sane, the only thing that lets him relax enough that he can even try to breathe the stupid medicine in, is Bucky. The way he holds Steve’s hand or rubs his arm or even holds him down to the bed. The way he meets his eyes, steady, and smiles at him. And the way he talks to him, the whole time, tells him it’s alright and he’s doing so well and it’ll all be over soon. Tells him he loves him and he’s not going anywhere. Doesn’t mention the tears. Just holds on and is there, and it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes my gumdrop asks me to write things (or doesn't ask me to and i just take it upon myself) and they end up here. you're welcome.


End file.
